


Owe No One Anything

by Hekate1308



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Amnesia, M/M, Post-Canon, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-21 04:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20687576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: A year after the Apocalypse, Heaven came for Aziraphale again. And this time, their plan was truly diabolical.This time, they meant business.This time, Crowley and Aziraphale might not make their way back to each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first Good Omens multi-chapter fic! Who is excited? I know I am! Enjoy!

So far, it had been a wonderful day. There had been remarkably many of those lately, ever since they had thwarted the Apocalypse and then proceeded to show Heaven and Hell who they were (not) dealing with a year ago.

Not even Crowley found much to complain about now, and if you asked Aziraphale, he was rather talented at inventing reasons to.

He had just returned from a most pleasant drive through the streets of London; he’d tried to get his angel to accompany him, but he’d wanted to read a first edition Dickens he’d procured the other day (maybe a little demonic intervention of Crowley’s had been involved to make sure the other offer wasn’t accepted, but if Aziraphale knew, he hadn’t complained about it). Crowley had smiled and kissed him and left him to it.

He was whistling to himself as he snapped his fingers to open the door. He couldn’t even remember when Aziraphale had last let any customers in.

“Angel!” he called out “I’m home!”

No answer. That was odd. Normally, no matter how busy he was, he immediately came to greet him.

“Angel?”

Still no answer. Granted, he liked to take walks through the city now and then, but it was unlike Aziraphale not to let him know. He’d have left a note.

Oh well; nothing to worry about, he told himself. He was sure to pop up.

In the meantime, Crowley could make him a cup of cocoa; his eyes always lit up when he did that, and he’d long since given up pretending that it wasn’t one of his favourite sights in the entire universe.

* * *

They had come quickly, and silently. Aziraphale had been reading and waiting for Crowley; he’d been dwelling on whether they should have dinner at the Ritz or at this ,lovely new Italian place down the road when they grabbed him.

He struggled, of course; but as Crowley could have told him, trying to fight off several angels who wanted to drag someone away was all but impossible.

At least Crowley wasn’t there. It was the one thing he was thankful for as he was brought back to Heaven and right into Michael’s and Gabriel’s presence.

Still – looking at them, looking at those he had tried so often to convince that the Apocalypse didn’t have to happen and who he had tried his best to love instead of that dear old serpent, he found he didn’t have any regrets. A year might not have been a long time when compared to the 6000 they had spent dancing around one another; and yet he had been happier during the past twelve months than he had ever been.

Crowley had made him happy.

And so he could look impassively into Gabriel’s face as he began to speak. “Aziraphale, you not only thwarted the Ineffable Plan, but have since then cohabitated and soiled yourself with the demon Crowley. Is that true?”

“No” he said simply.

“Don’t try to lie to us” he pressed put through gritted teeth, “We know exactly what you have been up to –“

“I haven’t been soiling myself with Crowley” he interrupted him. “We love one another.”

Gabriel laughed, a short, ugly sound. “Love? An angel cannot love a demon. We are hereditary enemies.”

Aziraphale thought of remarking that, considering they were more or less family, it rather seemed like _they_ were the his hereditary enemies, not Crowley, but knew there was no point in saying so.

He would have liked to say goodbye, he suddenly realized. Oh well; better to die with one regret than watch the world burn with a thousand. “So, what is it to be? More hellfire?” he asked casually.

He wasn’t going to let them have their fun. And, while they concentrated on him, Crowley might get away; Crowley might save himself.

Gabriel laughed again then, and he knew that what they were planning to do was something far worse.

“Oh no” he said, putting his face close to Aziraphale’s, “We wouldn’t want to repeat a mistake, would we. No – we have a much better idea.”

* * *

He’d been home an hour and still no sign of Aziraphale. The cocoa was of course staying warm – a miracle had made sure of that – but Crowley was really starting to worry now. Aziraphale should have at least called, or picked up when he tried to do so, Crowley having finally persuaded him that it was a good idea for them both to carry mobile phones. He still didn’t like to use it (well, for phone calls; Crowley wasn’t supposed to know about the pictures he took, mostly of the demon himself, but he did, of course) but that didn’t matter, he’d know to…

Crowley bit his lip and hissed. He didn’t like this. At all.

And so, he decided to go look for Aziraphale. Even if he didn’t find him, he was bound to be there when Crowley came back.

At least that was what he told himself as he got into the Bentley.

* * *

Aziraphale was safely contained for now, but that was of course only the beginning.

It had never been tried, Gabriel reflected; but that didn’t mean that their plan was doomed to failure

After all, Aziraphle had not only betrayed Heaven but also the Great Plan and therefore Her; he had to pay.

“Everything is ready for the… procedure” Michael reported.

“Good. Then it’s as it should be.”

She hesitated. “I just… I am not certain it will succeed. Aziraphale’s love for that demon –“

Gabriel glared at her. He held firm in his belief that no love could subsist between an angel and a demon. Aziraphale had gotten confused which side he was on after millennia on earth in close proximity to humans – that was all.

“His loyalty” Michael corrected herself “To the demon Crowley is such that I’m rather unsure we can –“

“I have thought of that. You don’t need to worry. If we can’t extract that… thing you so correctly describe as loyalty from him, we can hide it. Just long enough.”

As a matter of fact, part of Gabriel’s plan _depended_ on Aziraphale stubbornly holding on to his… positive feelings towards the demon; after all, consulting the pictures they’d had in the archive, it was obvious they had grown over a very long acquaintance.

They would be his punishment, once everything was done. For Gabriel didn’t care for the demon – he was already damned, so his destruction would be quite enough of a sentence – but Aziraphale… especially after the trick he’d played them when they had tried to deal with him before…

That was another matter entirely.

“Is Sandalphon ready?”

“Yes.”

“Good, then. Tell them to begin the procedure.“

* * *

He had no idea what they were planning. That was what troubled him the most. Until now, he hadn’t believed that anything else but Hell fire could be employed against him.

Certainly, in all his readings, he had never happened across something else that could permanently kill an angel.

It occurred to Aziraphale then that they probably weren’t’ planning on killing him after all. Maybe they wanted to keep him captive?

The possibility scared him more than dying.

Because, if he was to be just kept in a cell in heaven…

There was no doubt in his mind that Crowley would eventually hear about it. And then he’d try to break him out.

And if he did that…

Oh God, maybe they would even let him know just to lure him in.

Perhaps Aziraphale was supposed to be _bait_.

And this was Heaven. There was more than enough holy water to… to…

What if they made him watch Crowley melt away to nothing?

_No. Please. Everything but that._ He found himself praying fervently. He didn’t actually do it often: Crowley was far more prone to spontaneous prayer than he was – although Aziraphale didn’t think he knew that he knew; but he prayed now.

_Please God, he was just trying to do the right thing. He loved this world so much… and he loves me. We love _each other._ You cannot let this happen. You cannot allow them to punish love. _

He had to get away. There was no other way. Because Crowley would come looking for him, and he would find him, and if he tried to save him he would be destroyed.

And Aziraphale couldn’t let that happen. A world without Crowley was too awful to contemplate.

* * *

Nothing. Crowley had gone straight to all of Aziraphale’s favourite restaurants and had been informed by the staff – who naturally knew him well these days – that “his husband” hadn’t been around; undoubtedly, they thought they had quarrelled, but he could wonder about that and the _husband_ thing when he had found _him_.

He was currently sitting on their favourite bench in St. James’ Park, thinking.

Aziraphale wouldn’t just leave him behind. That was a fact.

Aziraphale wasn’t there. That was also a fact.

Meaning he wouldn’t have gone away of his own free will. 

So someone had to have taken him.

The question was who.

The bookshop had been clean. Crowley knew Hell well enough to be very aware that, if demons had grabbed him, it would have been chaos. And maybe they would have burned it down again for good measure.

So that…

His blood ran cold.

Heaven. It must be. The other angels had stolen Aziraphale away again.

But then… maybe – maybe it was too late, maybe he was already –

No. He couldn’t allow himself to think like that. Aziraphale wasn’t dead; somehow, Crowley couldn’t shake his belief that he would have felt that, would have felt their bond sever in whatever remained of his Grace.

Time to return home. He needed to come up with a plan.

* * *

It was Sandalphon who came for him, his tooth ornament shining brightly as he grinned at him.

It was not a comforting smile. “Well, Aziraphale. Do we have you at last.”

“It certainly appears like you dragged me away from my home again.”

“Home” he hissed (not unlike Crowley, Aziraphale thought with a stab) “A place you share with a demon, a fallen angel. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“I am only ashamed” he said firmly “That I did your bidding for so long instead of doing what my heart told me to.”

“Oh how extraordinary that you should mention that… doing our bidding. How very extraordinary…”

Aziraphale looked at the instruments they had laid out on a small table and swallowed. He had no idea what they were for, but they certainly looked unpleasant.

Only a few minutes later, they were ripping into his skull and all he could do was scream a scream loud enough that it reverberated through Heaven.

He’d never know that Gabriel had ordered that it should. After all, they had to set an example.

* * *

Crowley was ice more pacing up and down the room. At least he didn’t have to worry about any customers coming in, since Aziraphale still constantly changed the opening hours and rarely sold a book to anyone who managed top come in during them anyway.

Why the angel hadn’t just opened a library instead of a shop, Crowley would never know.

Alright. So it was likely that Heaven had Aziraphale. What was equally certain was that, this time at least, they weren’t working together with Hell; otherwise they would have grabbed Crowley too, especially since they had been separate at the time.

He should never have left him alone.

Band then the door opened and Aziraphale came in.

Relief swept through Crowley. He had overreacted again, but then he usually did when it came to _him_.

“Angel!” he rushed towards him, “Where have you been, I was _so_ worried –“

Alright, maybe that was an overreaction too, but still…

Aziraphale looked at him, his eyes growing wide. Then, an expression Crowley had never seen on him appeared on his face.

Distain. Open, undisguised disdain, and he turned to look behind himself if someone had snuck in. But there was no one.

When he turned back to Aziraphale, he had a flaming sword – not the flaming sword, at least Crowley didn’t think so – in his hands. “Be gone, foul fiend!”

It wasn’t the teasing tone he’d used when he’d last told him.

It was only then that Crowley realized.

Aziraphale didn’t know who he was.


	2. Chapter 2

Only when he realized that Aziraphale didn’t recognize him did he become aware that both the look of disgust on his face and the demand that he leave were directed at him.

Panic washing over him, he stepped closer. “Angel? It’s me –“

“I am aware what you are, you –“

“No – it’s me, Crowley” he tried. “Your –“ _demon, lover, soulmate_. He didn’t think any of those words would reassure Aziraphale at the moment now though, so he continued with, “friend.”

Aziraphale laughed, but it wasn’t his usual happy laugh or the playful giggle had heard so often as of late. No; this was a harsh, cold sound, and Crowley flinched before he had even properly registered that his angel was capable of sounding like that. “Friends? We are not friends! We are hereditary enemies! We could never be friends! Plus I have never seen you before.”

“Of course you have” he said helplessly. “We thwarted the Apocalypse together, and –“

It was the wrong thing to say. Aziraphale looked genuinely upset. “The Ineffable Plan? Why would I foil the Almighty’s Great Plan with a demon? You fell from Grace!”

“Yes I did, but then we met in Eden and –“

His eyes flared up. “That was _you_!? The serpent?”

“Yes, we did discuss whether it was the right or the wrong thing –“ Crowley began desperately, but Azirahale wouldn’t listen to him.

“I got a _reprimand_ because of you! You tricked me when I was supposed to be watching the tree –“

“Angel –“

“Don’t call me that” he hissed “There is no reason to be overly familiar. It’s not as if we had anything in common.”

Not as if we had anything in common.

Yesterday, they didn’t get up until it was time for lunch, instead cuddling and kissing in bed all morning.

“Aziraphale, please, you need to listen to me” he blurted out, desperation clawing at his throat. “It must be Heaven – I don’t know what they did to you, but you have to know that –“

“I certainly have to learn nothing _you_ consider important information” he told him gravely. “You’re damned.”

“Yes I know but –“

“Stop it. This can lead to nothing. As a matter of fact” Aziraphale raised his sword, his wings coming out “I think it may be part of God’s plan that I should be the one to get rid of the serpent, after all I was there that day too –“

Crowley needed a moment to realize. Until now, deep down he hadn’t believed he was in danger. Yes, Aziraphale was confused and Heaven had screwed with his mind a but, but this was still Aziraphale, Crowley’s – Crowley’s _everything_.

And then he attacked.

Crowley could only just duck out of the way as he expertly wielded the sword.

He slipped behind a bookcase, his heart beating wildly, his mind insisting that this was impossible, Aziraphale wasn’t trying to kill him, Aziraphale would never –

The sword sliced through the wood.

Crowley stared. Even if he would have thought Aziraphale capable of trying to destroy him, certainly he would never do this to his beloved books –

Forgetting the danger he was in, he reached down and picked up one that had been cut clean in half. Oh no, it was a first edition of _The Picture of Dorian Gray_, Aziraphale would be so _sad_ –

Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention and reminded him that he had to move.

A second later, the sword cut the air where he’d been standing.

“Aziraphale –“ He had to duck again.

“Angel –“ He jumped back just in time-

He looked directly into his love’s eyes – eyes that were hard and unforgiving and showed no sign of the affection he’d come to cherish – and breathed, “Please.”

Aziraphale, who had been preparing to launch at him again, hesitated, and Crowley knew he had to take the opportunity. “I will fix this. I promise” he said helplessly, then ran out of the shop to all but jump into the Bentley and race away.

* * *

His mind was in disarray. Even if he had ever believed Heaven would try and control one of their minds – it wouldn’t have been Aziraphale’s he would have been worried about. After all, Aziraphale was good. Yes, they had tried to kill him, but –

But –

To – to change him like that. To wipe away all traces of the angel Crowley loved so much.

He thought that he might already be gone forever – that they had simply deleted Aziraphale from existence – crossed his mind, almost causing him to crash.

He forced himself to stop the car and calm down. He couldn’t allow himself to get discorporated. Not when Aziraphale needed him. And he _did_ need him.

Crowley had promised he would fix this, because he had to believe that he could. There was no reason to go on otherwise, and he might as well have walked straight back into Hell and ask that the holy water bath be run again.

They had not stopped the Apocalypse for this, damn it. For just one year after which Heaven interfered and took everything from them.

_Think_, he told himself, _think_.

First of all, he took in his surroundings, realizing that he’d automatically driven towards Tadfield. It was a small wonder – Aziraphale had insisted on keeping up with the Them and Book Girl and Computer Boy, and they had spent quite a few pleasant weekends there as of late.

Could the Antichrist help him? But he was a being from Hell, not Heaven, and that meant he probably had no power over whatever they had done to Aziraphale.

So what then –

But of course. Book Girl was a witch. Occultist. Whatever. She had some magical abilities that most humans didn’t believe in.

And right now, Crowley really could use the help of someone who could read auras. Maybe, if she saw Aziraphale, she would be able to pinpoint what exactly they had done to him… or tell Crowley that his angel was still in there after all.

Decision made, he drove on.

* * *

Aziraphale gasped awake. He had never dreamed before – had actually thought it wasn’t possible – and was now rather glad for it, since if dreams were like that –

Crowley blinked awake next to him. “’Ziraphale?”

“I – I had a nightmare. I think” he replied carefully, the details already slipping away again. Not that he minded. It had been a terrible dream.

“What? Come here –“ Crowley pulled him into his arms and pressed a kiss on his forehead, and Aziraphale relaxed, as always when he was with his dear old serpent. “Remind that next time when we decide to go to sleep I miracle you a dreamless nap” he mumbled against Aziraphale’s hair.

“Thank you” he sighed. “Guess we should get up.”

Cawley wriggled his eyebrows. “No reason to.”

“You can’t keep me in bed forever.”

“I can try” he said honestly.

“That may be, but I am dying for a cup of tea.” Aziraphale shoved him playfully. “Come on.”

Crowley groaned but complied.

Something niggled at the back of Aziraphale’s mind.

He ignored it.

* * *

It was another very good day. There had been a lot of those in the past year. In the afternoon, after a most pleasant lunch at the Ritz, he was reading while Crowley was lying with his head in his lap, dozing on and off.

After a while, Aziraphale put the book away and did something else he loved to do – run his fingers through Crowley’s hair. For some reason, the dream continued to trouble him.

Even though he couldn’t remember it anymore.

No; there was this one detail he could recall, and it was –

_Please._ Please – Crowley’s voice pleading with someone, pleading with _him_. He’d sounded so desperate, so panicked… Aziraphale never wanted to hear that tone of voice from him again.

He looked down at the sleeping demon and told himself not to be silly. _It was just a dream. Everything is fine. Crowley is right here, you’re in your bookshop, you’ve been talking about buying a cottage in South Downs. Everything is fine. _

And yet, a feeling of dread remained.

* * *

“You’re so pensive today, angel” Crowley told him in the evening; they were having their weekly dinner at their favourite sushi bar. “Is that dream still freaking you out?”

He looked up from his sashimi. “Yes” he admitted.

“Hey” Corley took his hand; “Whatever it was, I am right here.”

His hand, as always, anchored Aziraphale, just like it had the night after the day that was supposed to be the end of everything and instead had been a new start.

How well he remembered the bus ride, when he’d allowed himself for the first time to properly reach out to this demon he loved so much.

“I don’t think I want to go to sleep tonight” he said.

Crowley shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever you want, angel.”

_Again_, that niggling feeling at the back of his mind…

He dismissed it. He was with Crowley, and the demon, who in the beginning had been rather reluctant when it came to public displays of affection, was holding his hand for all to see.

It was a perfect evening.

* * *

In the end, Azirpahale would late decide, that was exactly what had tipped him off that something was wrong.

Everything being so _utterly_ perfect.

It wasn’t that he and Crowley weren’t happy together – he liked to imagine they were _very_ happy indeed – but that – well –

The demon had grown so… accommodating all of a sudden. Aziraphale didn’t want to sleep for a while? Normally he’d be expected to try and cajole him back to bed just because he was feeling playful. Aziraphale would rather have fresh produce from the farmer’s market than miracle them into their fridge? The demon he knew so well would have rolled his eyes, snapped his fingers and made them appear himself. A customer found his way into the shop per accident? They’d walk right back out, Crowley grinning at him, even though Aziraphale could easily have told them they were about to close.

Now, though… whatever Aziraphale asked for, whatever he wished, he got. Crowley didn’t try and persuade him to do things he didn’t want to in the first place or in a different manner to what he was accustomed to, he was constantly at his side, and he showered him with gifts and affection.

That of course was nothing new. But Crowley had always used to show his feelings in a… more subtle manner, for lack of ab better word (when he’d not been busy redirecting bombs so they would fall on Nazi spies) and this…

Aziraphale couldn’t even say why it troubled him.

It was like that dream of his that also continued to haunt him. That please…

But Crowley was fine and happy and right there, and that should have been enough.

Only it wasn’t.

He’d not even tempted a single person since Aziraphale had that dream, and he liked to do so behind his back from time to time, for “old time’s sake.”

And so, almost unconsciously, Aziraphale began to test his love.

“I think we should visits the Them again” he said one day. “And Anathema and Newt.”

“If you wish. We can drive down on Saturday.”

No.

Wrong answer.

Crowley usually grumbled and pretended he didn’t want to visit their friends before giving in. It was part of their routine.

_What is wrong,_ Aziraphale wanted to ask. _What happened, dear?_

He didn’t.

* * *

The sense of wrongness continued to grow. Try as he might, Aziraphale couldn’t help but think that the demon he shared his life with had changed, and it scared him. Crowley had always been reliable, always constant. 

He couldn’t just go ahead and change. If their relationship had caused this, why would it have waited a whole year for it to take effect?

Aziraphale thought of his dream.

_Please_.

So scared, so broken…

Had someone done something to Crowley? But why, if anyone had the power, should they decided to mellow him?

It didn’t make any sense.

There was one way to be sure, though.

And so, as they sat down to dinner that night – Crowley having cooked – Aziraphale snatched his glasses off him. He’d noticed that he’d become strangely reluctant to take them off of late.

And when he looked into his eyes, he knew why.

“You’re not Crowley”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! (sorry I know I am needy ^^)


	3. Chapter 3

Aziraphale would never be able to explain how he knew. But the fact remained – the – the thing he was looking at wasn’t Crowley.

There was something about their eyes… they didn’t _look_ right. As if someone had tried to _copy_ the demon and hadn’t quite managed.

They were narrowing now. “What do you mean, angel? Of course I’m me.”

“Don’t call me that. Only he gets to call me that.”

“Come on Aziraphale” he replied, “You have to know that what you’re thinking is impossible. I don’t know why you’re so confused…”

And he wanted to believe him. He wanted to think that everything was fine, everything was still perfect, that he was just feeling irritated…

But he knew. Deep down, he’d known all along.

And it had been weeks since his nightmare, hadn’t it? Suddenly realizing that he actually had no idea – that he had just lived in the moment, without properly examining his misgivings and therefore having no idea where Crowley, his Crowley, was – made him feel even worse and he jumped up from the table. “I am not confused. I know exactly what’s going on” alright maybe that was a lie but he firmly believed even the Almighty herself would have forgiven him at that moment “And I am going to find Crowley!”

He didn’t exactly have a plan when he stormed off, but then, he and Crowley were known to have to spontaneously deal with crises even if they’d made one, so he would be okay. He told himself that.

Until he burst out of the door of the shop just to end up within again. “What –“

He tried again.

And again.

And again.

Around the fifth or sixth time, not-Crowley was still sitting at the table, studying him with something like pity. “Are you going to listen to me now?”

Aziraphale eyed him warily. “Why? So you can –“

“I just want to talk, angel.”

“I said not to call me that!”

“You said only Crowley could call you that, and for all intents and purposes, I am the closest you’ll ever get to seeing him again.”

The pain upon that thought hit him before he could even comprehend what the creature had just said. “Yes I will” he pressed out.

Not-Crowley shrugged his shoulders. “If you want to pretend…”

Aziraphale took place next to him again. “Alright. Where am I?”

“You’re clever. Haven’t you figure it out by now?”

“I –“ And Aziraphale thought. Thought how Crowley had always seemed to anticipate his wishes in the last few weeks; how the only customers the shop had seen were ones who were easily dissuaded from ever entering the premises again; how, now that he considered it, even those who walked by the shop where exactly the people he expected to –

“My own mind” he said quietly. “I’m trapped inside my own mind.”

“There it is” not-Crowley said, squeezing his hand, and Aziraphale was too weak to deny the touch.

* * *

“But how? _Why_?”

Another pitiful glance and he understood.

No, more than that. He _remembered_.

Sandalphon, grinning, advancing towards him, the instrument in his hands –

The panic at the thought that they might do something similar to Crowley –

The pain –

“There, there” not-Crowley said, squeezing his hand again, “Thinking about it will do absolutely no good.”

Aziraphale wrenched his hand away.

Not-Crowley sighed. “There’s no reason to be childish about this.”

“What do you mean, childish?” he demanded. “They locked me into my own mind!”

“Not really. That was your own doing.”

“What?”

“Alright, I don’t completely understand it either” he admitted, “I am just part of you, after all. But it seems to me that they must have been trying to regain control over, and certain aspects of your personality prevented that, so they… hid them. The parts of you that are important, anyway.”

“Important?”

“Look. You remember everything about me, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“And you love me.”

“Yes” he replied matter-of-factly.

“Let’s just say, the puppet of you the angels are controlling, the one you’re currently showing the world… doesn’t.”

Aziraphale stared at him; he couldn’t _help_ but stare. He simply couldn’t imagine a world where he didn’t love Crowley. The feeling was buried too deep within his very core.

“You remember your dream?”

Just that one word. _Please_. Crowley pleading –

Crowley pleading with _him_ –

No. Oh God, _no_.

“Hey” Not-Corley tried, “It’s not all bad, is it? I know for a fact that you were worried they’d come after you two again. You don’t have to wonder about that, here. We can be happy here. And free.”

“How is being locked into my own mind being free?” Aziraphale asked. “And I have to get back to Crowley.”

“Angel, you do realize there is a good chance he’s already dead. And that the last thing he saw on this earth was your face as you took him apart?”

The problem with actually sitting down to talk to part of your subconsciousness, Aziraphale decided, was that one couldn’t hide from oneself.

Not even the things one wanted the least to hear in this world.

* * *

“What’s this supposed to accomplish? You know all these books. That’s why they are here.”

Aziraphale ignored not-Crowley, as he had determined to do after their last conversation

All those books, all this knowledge he’d accumulated over the years… there had to be _something_ he could do.

He had to go back. He had to wake up.

He had to find Crowley.

And if – if –

No. He couldn’t dwell on that. Otherwise, he’d give in and stay and never know.

“I’m not going to go away.”

Too bad; Aziraphale had always been good at ignoring things he didn’t like. Like customers who wanted to buy books.

“This is ridiculous. You could have everything you’ve ever wanted. There’s no reason to go back –“

This not-Crowley wasn’t quite just created from his mind, he’d realized; part of him was tainted by whatever the angels had done to him. He was trying to tempt him into staying.

He wouldn’t succeed.

He had to get back to his love.

* * *

Book Girl and Computer Boy (Aziraphale kept telling him their names, but Crolwey considered it easier to think of them as such) still lived in that cottage; seemed like they had grown fond of it.

Crowley remembered his and Aziraphale’s own talks about eventually getting one and clenched his hands into fists. They would buy a cottage once this was over. And it would be over soon, for he refused to spend longer without his angel than necessary.

Surely, after six millennia of dancing around one another, they deserved a happy – well, not _ending_; but a happy time together. Surely. _Surely_.

He knocked on the door, praying they were home. Or at least that Book Girl was. She’d once told them that, thanks to Agnes Nutter, Witch’s, prophecies, she could afford working from home as an occultist.

She opened the door soon enough, although it seemed to Crowley to take a long time.

“Crowley!” she smiled. He’d never quite figured out just how much she and her boyfriend remembered from the Non-Apocalypse, but she seemed to regard both him and Aziraphale as something like friends after the experience.

She looked around. “Where’s your other half?”

He tried to answer; he really did. But the only noise he succeeded in making sounded way too much like a suppressed sob for his liking. Book Girl looked shocked. 

“Crowley? Come in” she immediately ushered him into the cottage. “What happened?”

He told her.

When he’d finished, she took a deep breath. “Alright. I’ll make us a cup of tea, and then we’ll talk.”

She really had assimilated rather well.

* * *

When they were sitting at the kitchen table (the memory of Aziraphale next to him happily drinking tea and devouring biscuits making it hard for him to swallow)n she began, “So he doesn’t remember you at all?”

Crowley shook his head. “He was surprised when I told him I was the serpent.”

She pursed her lips. “But then how does he explain everything that happened?”

“Some of it he has forgotten, and he doesn’t seem to wonder about it. I think” Crowley said bitterly, “they made him not care, somehow.”

“Oh Crowley, I am so sorry.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. Despite the fact that he was well aware she could read auras and therefore knew he was no danger to her, he was surprised. “Let’s go to London and see what I can find pout.”

“You’d help a demon, just like that?”

She gave him a sad smile. “I have seen your auras when you’re around one another. You two belong together.”

Talking seemed impossible, so he nodded to convey his gratitude.

* * *

Remembering just in time that she was human, he didn’t drive back to London the way he had driven down. “Everything was going so well” he muttered.

“And you think Heaven is behind this?”

“My lot would just outright have killed him.”

A pause. Then quietly, Book Girl – _Anathema, Crowley,_ Aziraphale’s voice said in his head, _It’s not that difficult, dear_ – replied, “Sometimes I am not so sure if the right angels were thrown down for rebelling.”

“That’s the Ineffable Plan for you” he shrugged.

“That you ruined.”

“It was a team effort. You and your boyfriend did so too.”

That made her smile, and he was ridiculously pleased about it.

Really, the year with Aziraphale had made him soft.

On the other hand…

He wouldn’t have had it any other way. Just for the last year alone, he would go through the entire six millennia preceding it again willingly.

“Hey” she said suddenly, “Corley, I promise I will do anything I can to figure out what’s wrong.”

“Thank you” he said. He must be looking even worse than he thought.

* * *

Anathema had never seen the demon like this. Normally, when he came to visit with Aziraphale, he was his usual self-possessed, slightly sarcastic self; he tended to amuse himself by making fun of Newt and barely leave his lover’s side.

She’d known from the first moment she had laid eyes on them that they were in love, of course. Their auras were both staining towards one another, with a decidedly pink hue.

To think that Aziraphale could just forget all of this…

She didn’t think Crowley knew what difference not being with the angel made in his appearance. She didn’t just mean his aura – although pain and fear were clearly there for all to read who knew how to – but he moved differently, seemed shrunken in on himself.

That poor – demon.

When they arrived in London, she made him let her out of the car a street or two away from the bookshop she and Newt had occasionally visited during the past year when they had been in London. “Just in case; I don’t think it’d be good if he were to see us together.”

“No, probably no” he replied, his shoulders slumping even lower.

“Wait for me, I’ll let you know as soon as I can get a read on him” she advised him. She’d decided to simply walk in as another customer; considering whatever they had done to him had made him forget Crowley, there was every chance Aziraphale wouldn’t know who she was.

It wasn’t a pleasant thought, but she told herself to first of all see what was going on and then consider her options.

She walked up to the cosy bookshop. The last time they’d been here, Newt had been so fascinated by one of the first editions of the first computer manual ever printed that she’d been afraid Aziraphale would end up snatching it out of his hands eventually. Crowley had watched on, rather bemused.,

It couldn’t be that bad, she told herself. Aziraphale might have been an angel, and he might be controlled by outside forces, but he was still Aziraphale, and –

She stood still.

Her first thought was that she was glad Crowley couldn’t see this.

Through the windows, she could clearly make out Aziraphale.

He was carelessly throwing books into a box that proclaimed _Garbage_ on its side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope it's clear what's going on and you are still enjoying this!


	4. Chapter 4

This was worse than she thought.

If whoever was behind this (and she was rather inclined to agree with Crowley that this was Heaven’s work) could make Aziraphale throw his beloved books away…

She needed to get a closer look though, so she entered.

The gaze that was bestowed on her made her all the more glad that she’d decided against taking Crowley with her. There was nothing of the friendliness or even decency Aziraphale normally showed people he barely even knew; there was no recognition; and perhaps, worst of all, his expression was utterly and completely blank.

“Oh I’m sorry” she said, “I thought this was a bookshop”.

“It used to be” Aziraphale told her shortly with no sign that he recalled ever seeing her before “It’s closed now.”

And he let another few books drop into the box. She managed not to wince.

At least it gave her all the opportunity she needed to study his aura.

What was left of it.

_Oh God. _

* * *

Crowley was impatiently waiting next to the Bentley when she returned, feeling slightly ill. “And? Did you find anything?”

“He’s… it…” she took a deep breath. “I think you should know that he’s closed up shop and is busy throwing away his books…”

She realized it had been the wrong thing to say when the demon hurried past her. “What – Crowley! You can’t! What if he sees you –“

But she could only run after him as he ran towards and right by the shop, turning the corner. Thankfully Aziraphale seemed to be busy inside since he wasn’t visible through the windows.

She found Crowley near the bins, staring at the discarded boxes full of books, making distressed noises.

“These – theses bastards! Look at that! All his first editions – oh my God that page is crooked, he’ll have fits –“

“Crowley” she tried, “We can’t –“

“I know” he sighed, proving that he hadn’t lost every bit of sense, “I know.” He snapped his fingers and the boxes disappeared. “There; they’re safely in storage now.”

“Won’t he notice?”

“Do you think” he challenged her, “He will care?”

A part of her wanted to lie. “I think we should find some place to talk.”

Crowley looked at her then, and just like that she could tell he knew that what she had seen was bad. “There’s a coffee shop nearby… Aziraphale loves it. Follow me.”

* * *

Once they were seated – and it was just a place that Aziraphale would have enjoyed if he was his usual self, rather than whatever _they_ had turned him into – Anathema took a deep breath. “This may sound strange, but his aura looks… clean.”

“Clean? What does that mean, _clean_?”

“White. All the edges scrubbed of. It looks like…” she paused and searched for a metaphor. “It looks like… someone reset him to factory settings.”

“Factory settings” Crowley snarled, “So that he’d be an obedient angel?”

“That’s my best guess. Sorry I can’t say more.”

Crowley apparently hadn’t listened, for he suddenly asked, “Do you think he’s still in there?”

And with startling clarity, Anathema realized that if she said no, they’d lose both of them at once. There was no doubt in her mind that Crowley couldn’t and wouldn’t live without Aziraphale. “I think” she said carefully, “That it’s almost impossible to extract so many pieces of someone’s aura and still leave a functioning… person. Therefore, it should only be hidden away.”

“You mean they took everything that didn’t fit Gabriel’s view of a pferct angel and just… made him forget about it?”

“Something like that.”

Despite everything, Crowley seemed to take that as encouragement.

After a few moments of silence, she began, “Maybe that’s the way back to him?”

“What do you mean?”

“He was an angel with factory settings once, wasn’t he? And he still fell in love with you.”

“He had already given his flaming sword away when we first met” Crowley argued. “He wasn’t… this. He said… He tried to…” he swallows. “I hardly doubt he’d be amenable to me courting him now.”

There was something almost quaint about his use of the word _courting_, but she didn’t mention it. “Still, though… if the rest of him is somewhere in there, there is a chance you can bring him back.”

“I suppose you don’t know any magic tricks?” he asked, sounding resigned.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. Someone else is going to be, though” his hands tightened around his cup of coffee “when this is all over.”

A demon, of course. They were supposed to be wrathful.

And yet… remembering Aziuraphale’s empty eyes, Anathema couldn’t find herself sorry for those who had done this to him.

“Alright…” Crowley mused. “So. They took away his memories. They’re making him give up his bookshop. I strongly assume he won’t be eating or sleeping anytime soon, either.” He sounded as if he were in pain. “And they’ll make him do all sorts of miracles and blessings, I suppose.”

“That won’t be that bad, surely?” she ventured forth.

“I wouldn’t put anything past Heaven” Crowley said bitterly. “Say what you want, but when they and hell… let’s just say things happened a year ago, and – I at least was supposed to get a trial in Hell. Heaven was just out to destroy Aziraphale.”

And now they were doing exactly that little by little, Anathema thought. Stripping away the things he liked to do, his memories, his love for Crowley. Turning him into nothing but an obedient soldier doing their bidding.

She’d not mentioned it to the demon because it would only hurt him more, but even the clothes Aziraphale was wearing weren’t his usual style. They were too white, too clean, too pristine. And no ornament in sight.

And if Heaven was indeed as vindictive and out for blood as Crowley claimed, then it was more than likely…

“Whatever you do” she said quietly, “Promise me to be careful. If not for yourself, then for him.”

Crowley looked at her through his sunglasses and nodded. Just once.

She’d have to be content with that.

* * *

“I don’t know why you bother. You should know by now that there is nothing to be done.”

“There is always something to be done” Aziraphale answered before he could stop himself, and hated himself for it. That thing simply had too much of Crowley’s voice and mannerisms for him to ignore it completely.

“Why can’t you just take the easy route _for once_?”

“Because” he said simply, “It won’t lead me back to him.”

Not-Crowley rolled his eyes. “I am telling you, most likely he’s dead by now.”

As always when he brought up the possibility, Aziraphale’s hands tightened around the book he was holding. “Then” he said quietly, “Seamen else is going to be dead very soon.”

“Yes, you if you’re not careful.”

Aziraphale glanced at him.

Not-Crowley groaned. “Really? Now his existence is the most important thing in the universe?”

“It always has been” Aziraphale admitted. “I just didn’t know it.” And when he _had_ known it, in that burned-down church, he’d pushed the feeling back down, not ready to come to terms with the fact that he loved one of the damned.

“Obsession, that’s what it is. Not love.”

Another point to prove that this wasn’t just Aziraphale talking top himself. He would never doubt the love they shared again, he’d sworn to himself on that bus ride back to Crowley’s place a year ago; and he was not going to break his oath now.

Not-Crowley sighed and sat down next to him. “You don’t even know what they did to you, not exactly.”

“I know it hurt” Aziraphale said quietly.

And something else, too.

He might right now be locked into his own mind, but that was still a good thing. Because it meant –

He could fight and get back to Crowley.

And that was what he would do.

* * *

He didn’t know how much time had passed, either in his mind or out of it. It could be that he’d only been here for a heartbeat, although he doubted it, seeing as he’d needed a few weeks alone to realize something was wrong.

How long had Crowley been out there, alone?

Well, not quite alone – they did have a few friends these days, but what could they do? They were lovely, but human.

Aziraphale sighed and concentrated back on the book on ancient spells he’d had since… oh… the mid-nineteenth century, hadn’t it been? Shortly after he’d told Crowley about his plans to open a bookshop, it had one day appeared in his place.

Despite everything, the memory made him smile.

Now, if only he could find out what sort of spell –

And suddenly he realized something.

He was all split into parts. The parts of him that were apparently a “perfect” angel who didn’t love a demon – or at least the parts that would have returned out like that, if he hadn’t found a friend and soulmate in Eden’s serpent – they were out there, doing God knew what; then there were the parts of him he chose to show to the world, and especially Crowley – those were here, wherever here exactly happened to be; and then was not-Crowley, part of his subconscious and at the same time probably at least slightly ebbing controlled by Heaven.

It was all about parts. Pieces. Elements.

And that meant –

Well, wouldn’t it just be logical if the other angels had chosen to take different parts of spells too, then? At least it would explain why Aziraphale had never heard of this before.

He began to read again, very carefully this time.

* * *

“Alright” he muttered to himself “And then there’s the Enochian memory spell – “ He wrote it down.

This was bad.

Apparently they had taken ingredients from five different spells and mixed them all together to do this to him.

And to Crowley.

If some time had passed outside – and it was very probable – then Crowley must by now have realized something was wrong with him.

The poor dear would be so worried, and perhaps a little heartbroken, that Aziraphale didn’t recognize him.

He closed his eyes for a moment as he remembered that word again. _Please. _

Don’t worry my love, I will return to you.

“Fine” Not-Crowley, who had just spontaneously appeared next to him, said. “You know how they did it. Great. A+. Now what? Doesn’t mean you can do anything g. You certainly can’t cast spells yourselves; nothing here is real, you can’t get to the ingredients…”

“Doesn’t matter” Aziraphale answered simply, “I will just have to take control again.”

“You what?”

“I’ll have to take control over my body. It’s mine, after all.”

Not-Crowley shook his head. “You’re delusional.”

“That may be” he replied, “But hope springs eternal, as the humans are so fond of saying.”

* * *

“It is rather disappointing that the serpent is not already dealt with” Gabriel said, “But otherwise everything is going according to plan.”

It truly was. They’d made Aziraphale abandon his silly hobbies as well as the old-fashioned and impractical clothes he had been wearing; and ever since they had sent him back to earth he’d been one of their most diligent and trustworthy operatives, never questioning an order, and not wasting a single thought on that demon.

The spell, even if he said so himself, had been one of his more brilliant ideas.

“Yes” Michael said, “But I would like to know how he escaped.”

This was troubling Gabriel a little, too. Aziraphale had had orders, and he was suppose to follow them now. And he did. Apart from the fact that the demon Crowley was still out there. And now he was warned.

But there was another possibility…

After all, they were supposed to love one another, weren’t they? It seemed incredibly that a demon would even consider itself capable of loving anything, but still. It seemed Crowley laboured under the same delusion they had healed Aziraphale from.

And that –

Now that they could use to their advantage. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think, please? Sorry I've just been feeling pretty anxious these past few days.


	5. Chapter 5

Aziraphale was strolling through London. Once he had learned that he was trapped inside his own head, it had become very easy to simply conjure up anything outside of his shop that he wanted to; and at the moment, he was going to St. James Park, where he and Crowley had had so many of their clandestine meetings.

He needed to sit on their bench and think.

And talk to Crowley.

Not the one who continued to haunt his shop; no, that would have been a fruitless endeavour; but the one he could so easily imagine, the one he loved, the one who was waiting for him out there.

And so, he sat down on the non-existent bench in the non-existent park and watched the non-existent ducks.

_What am I supposed to do,_ he asked.

**How the hell would I know, angel?** Crowley answered in his imagination. **You’re the clever one. Think.**

_I have done nothing else all the time I’ve been here. _

**I know that. But maybe you need to stop thinking for a second. You know what happened to you; now you have to fix it. **

_Again, I’m trying. _

**Of course you are. You’ll always come back to me. **

At least Aziraphale liked to think that Crowley knew that. That Crowley was certain everything would be fine.

**Exactly. So. Why don’t you?**

_Why don’t I?_

It was exactly the sort of thing Crowley would have said – how casually he had suggested that they stop the Apocalypse twelve years ago…

_Because – I – _

Crowley was right of course, even if he wasn’t actually there. Aziraphale couldn’t just keep thinking about what he had to do; he had to go and do it.

And then he had an idea.

_I’m coming, dear. Don’t forget that. _

**I know. I know, angel.**

And he could have sworn that he actually felt a kiss being pressed against his locks.

He walked on.

One of the advantages of being locked into his own mind was that he could… well, fast-travel in a way; and so, he almost immediately found himself in front of the London Eye.

Crowley had taken him there for their anniversary; a little demonic intervention had made it so that their had been maintenance to do and they’d had a lovely dinner right at the unmoving cabin on top.

Aziraphale needed a vantage point, so to speak.

He needed to know what was going on.

* * *

_Alright,_ he told himself once he was sat in the cabin that looked exactly like the one they’d had their date in, _This is your body. Your mind. And you’ll be damned if you allow them to do what they want with it. _

He closed his eyes and concentrated.

When he got an image, it was as strange as it was disconcerting.

He could see through his eyes, but do nothing to control his body; not yet.

Apparently they were making him do angelic deeds – he breathed a sigh of relief; first of all, Crowley wasn’t in sight, which meant he was no danger to him, and he could live with having performed a few blessings.

At least he thought so until he realized that this was all he was doing. There was nothing of the little touches either he or his beloved serpent would have added, nothing personal.

And then he caught a glance of his reflection and felt even more furious at Heaven.

Gabriel had made him lose his gut.

Crowley loved it that he was _all soft_, as he put it, and he vowed to himself to change back as soon as he had everything under control.

He blinked and was suddenly some place else. He couldn’t keep looking all the time, then; now and then he apparently got thrown right back into his mind.

That was a disappointment, but still –

Wait –

Wasn’t this –

His shop. His bookshop.

Where his book ship had been.

What in Heaven’s name had they done to their home? There was nothing there but a desk and a computer he normally would never have touched.

What had they done!?

By now, Aziraphale was seething. How could they…

A blink, and he was at a hospital – doing some healings, or so it seemed – and he realized that strong emotions made it difficult to hold on.

_Oh dear. _

Still, he would persevere. He would win.

He had to.

And then he and Crowley would fix his bookshop and maybe talk some more about that cottage they had their eyes on.

Yes.

That was exactly what would happen.

He had to believe that.

“Always liked your stubborn streak, angel”.

He sighed and faced not-Crowley.

* * *

“Send him into my office as soon as he arrives” Gabriel instructed Michael, then went in there himself to check up on Aziraphale’s latest reports.

They were perfectly satisfactory (except in one respect, but they would soon change that) and nothing like his former hastily scribbled scratches.

What a mess those had been. A lot of _And then I just had to help this child find his mother with a minor miracle, so I came a little late to my assignment et cetera. _

They should have done what they had centuries ago. It would have made everything so much easier.

And, of course, the Apocalypse could have taken place, then.

Oh well; they would later worry about how to start it again. And Gabriel would make sure that Aziraphale was right at the front lines, helping.

A knock on his door. “Come in.”

Yes, Gabriel thought as Aziraphale stepped in, now this was a proper angel. Finally fit and wearing an elegant suit instead of that mess he’d insisted on putting on when he’d still had his own free will.

Free will. Sometime she thought it had been the worst idea the Almighty had ever had.

“Ah, Aziraphale.”

“Sir.”

He stood to attention, just as he was supposed to.

“Your daily tasks?”

“Done, sir.”

To his surprise, Gabriel found his even, emotionless stare somewhat unsettling. But this was what they had wanted… “Good. Now, there is a special task I want you to undertake…”

He accepted the job, of course. There was nothing else he could have done.

* * *

Crowley had spent the better part of the last week trying to find everything they had make Aziraphale throw out and was confident that he had most of their stuff in storage now, thank God. Once he got his angel back, he’d be upset about what they had done to the shop, but there was nothing they couldn’t fix.

He hadn’t yet dared enter their place again. Aziraphale would have known immediately that he’d been there, and since he hadn’t taken kindly to it when they had last met (an understatement)…

Crowley was currently sorting through the boxes; he stopped when he found Aziraphale’s key chain, clutching it hard enough that, if he had been human, it would have cut into his flesh.

They had made him get rid off everything that made Aziraphale _Aziraphale_.

He needed to act. He thought about what Anathema had told him – that he ought to be careful – but at the same time, there was something in the thought that Aziraphale was an angel who had already fallen for a demon once; and something of him had to be left –

He’d approach him in a public place, Crowley decided. Not even a soldier of Heaven would attack him in front of humans.

Too much paperwork, for one.

Az first, when he entered the shop he had located Azirapahale in and let his eyes wander around, Crowley didn’t se him.

And then he realized why as his heart sank.

Lean, thin Principality Aziraphale was currently performing a minor blessing on someone – and it was exactly the kind of thing he wouldn’t have done prior to whatever they had done to him.

For he was planting the thought that it might begetter to study medicine like his father into the mind of a young man who until now had been bent on a musical career, and Aziraphale loved music.

Only he’d forgotten that, just like he had forgotten Crowley.

Ad here he was, looking young and fit and nothing like his soft, perfect angel.

Crowley swallowed.

Then he determinedly stepped up to him. “Might be a good idea” he said, “After all, medicine does pay better than music, unless we’re talking about the Stones.”

Aziraphale levelled his cold stare at him, but thankfully didn’t pull out his sword. “I am surprised you agree with me.”

Crowley shrugged. “I’m not like other demons.”

“So my research would suggest. You don’t go in for the usual temptations, although I do consider myself impressed by the M25. I regularly have to bless away the woes of the people who drive on it.”

What kind of low-key stuff did they make him do, Crowley thought angrily – as if he was Gabriel’s lackey?

He bet the bastard _loved_ ordering him around.

“Thank you”. He looked at the not-to-be-a-musician after all. “Nice work here, too.”

“For the serpent you are rather fair. I am sorry I tried to kill you during our last meeting. I certainly had no orders to; I should have asked my supervisors before.”

That would have been reassuring, if he had looked and sounded like he was sorry, but he didn’t. He simply looked… impassive and there was no trace of emotion on his face.

Crowley had always been able to read him so well.

“Why do you chose to present like this?” he asked, studying his body. “You could look younger, too.”

_You like it_, he wanted to tell him, but couldn’t.

Apparently Aziraphale had forgotten his claim that they had met before – or had been made to forget like everything else – so that wouldn’t be a problem.

Somehow, they had ended up in St James’ Park, and every step felt utterly wrong. This wasn’t his angel. At least not _all_ of him. Factory settings, Anathema had said.

They strolled along the river and Crowley wondered if they would ever feed the ducks again together.

It wasn’t a pleasant thought.

“I like it” he said defensively. “Plus, people are more easily intimidated by someone they perceive as older”. It wasn’t true of course but he could hardly expect this version of Aziraphale to _get it_. He hadn’t understood why he looked the way he had when he’d first become… this, after all, or he wouldn’t have changed just because someone (Gabriel, he was sure of it, _fucking Gabriel_) told him to.

“Who would have thought” he mused, unknowingly piercing Crowley’s heart again, “that I’d ever talk like this with a demon.”

Certainly not those upstairs, Crowley thought. Certainly not. Otherwise, they’d have told him to kill him on sight.

Interesting that he didn’t have any order to do so –

But of course.

They wanted him to see. They wanted him to behold Aziraphale as he now was, changed from everything Crowley had loved about him. They _wanted_ him to suffer.

Heaven could be crueller than Hell any day, if they so chose.

“I – I have a friend who’s an angel” he ventured.

Aziraphale looked at him impassively. “I told you; demons and angels cannot be friends. You’ve not even got the ability to make any. You’ve fallen.”

“I noticed” he said dryly. “And for the record, I didn’t mean to.”

“None of you did, but that doesn’t change a thing.”

No, probably not. How _sure_ he sounded – how different from the stuttering angel he had met in Eden who had already been doubting whether he’d done the right thing.

Crowley shuddered but tried not to think of it.

“Well this has been interesting” Aziraphale said in the tone of someone who wasn’t interested in anything “But I’ve got to keep going.”

“I – sure” Crowley forced himself to reply. “You ever want a chat, feel free to contact me.”

“I will take this into consideration” Aziraphale replied to his surprise.

Against all odds, he felt a surge of hope.

His angel must still be in there somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, Gabriel is a dick.


	6. Chapter 6

During the next few weeks, Crowley made a point of occasionally dropping in when Aziraphale was working – mostly because that was all he seemed to do, these days; Heaven apparently didn’t believe in anyone taking breaks – and making small talk. After a while, he grew slightly more amenable to their discussions – at least Crowley told himself that; maybe he was just desperate.

The point was, Aziraphale was talking to him and hadn’t yet tried to kill him again, and he would take what he could get. For now.

Anathema had called last week, sounding slightly frantic with worry, and he had done his best to assure her that things were going according to plan… well, as far as they could.

He’d booked a hostel room for the time being. In the Ritz, of course; living somewhere else was unthinkable, unless it be their flat. A minor miracle had made sure that none of the staff ever entered or even thought much of his suite, since he’d brought his plants (which Aziraphale had of course tried to throw away – no, not Aziraphale; that _puppet_ they had left in his place).

Granted, it felt wrong to be at the Ritz without his angel, but it felt wrong to be _anywhere_ without his angel.

Aziraphale didn’t know where he lived, and he wasn’t curious about it, either. “Where’s your place, then?” Crowley asked him during one of their talks, correctly assuming that by now, the entire scene in the bookshop had faded from his memory.

_Just like you. _

He ignored his inner voice.

“I do keep a bureau of sorts. It was unavoidable.”

“And? How did you decorate it?”

Aziraphale didn’t even blink. “Such frivolous occupations may be amenable to your lot, but we don’t need it.”

Crowley thought of all the things he’d so carefully preserved. “I suppose not” he answered “But it’s fun.”

“We’re not here to have fun” Aziraphale said, in that flat tone of voice he now always used. Crowley could barely keep himself from flinching.

“You may not, but hey, I’m supposed to indulge, am I not? I’m a demon after all. And sometimes a nice glass of wine is all that helps.” 

For a second, he could have sworn there was a glimmer of recognition in Aziraphale’s eyes, but it passed so quickly he couldn’t be sure. “If you say so. I’ve never tried it.”

“You could.”

“Don’t tempt me, serpent.” It was said with an air of finality, and Crowley understood that today’s interview was at an end.

Baby steps, he told himself. Baby steps.

* * *

Sometimes he was almost ready to give up; there were days where it looked like he wasn’t talking baby steps forward, but rather giant leaps backwards; but this was Aziraphale they were talking about. Crowley couldn’t just leave him behind, no matter what happened.

And so he continued to haunt Aziraphale. At least the angel was used to his presence, now, which was more than he’d dared to hope at one point.

After all, every time Aziraphale saw him and greeted him without trying to kill him or make a comment about him being the serpent, it was another reason to think that his angel was still in there.

Fighting to get back to him, like Crowley was struggling to get him back.

It was a beautiful day as he once more strolled down the street to what used to be Aziraphale’s bookshop and was now devoid of any of the things he’d loved – he _loved_ – so much.

He didn’t pause to stare at the empty windows; he simply snapped his fingers and strolled in. “Hello, Aziraphale! Working on your reports again?”

“Yes. I assume you don’t – since sloth is one of the deadly sins.”

It was one of the bad days, then. Crowley sighed but did his best to hide his disappointment. “Yep. That’s me. The lazy serpent.”

He took in the unusual fast way Aziraphale was typing, nothing like he usually would have (mostly because he barely used his computer). “You’ve been busy, on the other hand.”

“Good deeds don’t just do themselves.”

“I suppose not” he agreed, deciding it best to try and placate him; unconsciously, he threw a glance towards where the hat stand used to be, with a hat and a scarf on it that he had carefully packed away just like everything else and swore to himself he’d put back there no matter what. “But don’t you ever just relax? I mean, you must have done so _sometimes_ in the last six thousand years, right?”

He’d decided to try and kickstart his memories, or at least to attempt to make Aziraphale _think_.

“I – “ and indeed he stopped typing, looking confused. Then he ventured, “I was in Heaven.”

Of course they’d made him believe that. Probably worried that too many familiar things would break the spell or whatever it was that had turned Aziraphale into… this.

“You never popped down? Not even to check out the Lord’s creation? You weren’t even a little bit curious?”

“I – I did my duty in heaven” he repeated, now thoroughly confused as to why he couldn’t seem to remember what exactly he’d done there.

_Good. Keep him confused. _

“Well you’re here now, so I see no reason why you shouldn’t allow yourself to relax now and then. Every angel I have ever met does it.”

He looked shocked. “They do?”

“Of course. Gabriel loves his suit shopping, doesn’t he?” Crowley tilted his head to the side and pretended to think. “But then he always was a giant prick, even before the Fall.”

First, there was a hint of a smile on Aziraphale’s face, and all Crowley’s hope came rushing back. And then, even more promising, he frowned and asked, “You remember… before?”

“Of course. Demons are just angels after a tumble downstairs, never forget that.”

The thought apparently hadn’t occurred to him before – or rather, they had told him not to think about him. But Crowley was here to remind him, no matter how long or how often he had to.

He bid him goodbye soon afterwards.

That evening, an unforeseen development occurred.

Crowley was sitting on his bed at the Ritz, wondering whether he should try and sleep, a feat he hadn’t managed since they had taken Aziraphale, when his phone rang.

Frowning – he couldn’t recall handing his phone number out to anyone whose own he didn’t recognize.

And so he picked up, if only out of curiosity.

Only for his heart to start beating wildly when the first thing he heard was “Crowley, dear? I – I just remembered and I – they – can you come home, please?”

* * *

“I don’t understand why you bother checking what’s going on outside. It’s not like you can do anything.”

“I can try” he said once more before he was able to remind himself that this was _not Crowley_.

“So you just hang around and see what the parts of you the angels felt safe to leave in the world are up to?”

“Something like that” he said even though he probably wasn’t able to lie to this subconscious. But he still wanted to keep his thoughts to himself as much as I want.

After all, he had finally seen Crowley, _his Crowley_, again.

At first, when he had noticed his beloved hanging around the shop, he had been terrified; but then he’d realized that not even the image of him that was currently controlled by Heaven was attacking him.

He would have liked to think that this had to do with – well, showing mercy, but he couldn’t count on that. He knew what the angels were capable of.

It was pretty clear that his lovely serpent was trying to break the spell in his own way.

God, how he loved him.

He missed him so much.

A hand on his arm made him jump. “You know” not-Crowley said conversationally, “It’s not like it would be _cheating_. This is your mind; you’re not even inventing someone else to have some fun with while you wait to get out of here.”

First of all, he wasn’t waiting – he was working on it; and second – he’d know. No matter how this needed, he would always know that he had willingly chosen a fake Corley over the real one just because he couldn’t handle the situation. “No.”

“Come on, angel.”

“I told you not to call me that” he snapped once more.

“Fine. Aziraphale. Look, right now you can’t do anything anyway – why not let me love you?”

And Aziraphale realized he meant it. No matter that this Crowley had been soiled by the spells – he was still a creature from Aziraphale’s subconscious, and if there was something he felt sure it was that he had Crowley’s love. And so this not-Crowley was in love with him, too.

He reached out and gently stroked his cheek. “I can’t.”

He needed to get back to his real love.

* * *

This was strange, he reflected on another occasion; yet again his body was taking a stroll with Crowley when, really, he should have been violently opposed to any fraternizing (he allowed himself a small smile as he remembered) with the enemy.

And worst of all was Crowley himself.

Aziraphale could see it, could se that this was taking its toll on him. Even though he wore his sunglasses, it wasn’t difficult top read his body language, and he was _screaming_ at, begging him to remember.

_I am coming back to you. Just hive me a little time, dear, and I’ll figure it out. _

Still – this was odd.

He should find out if there was indeed some hint of his real personality in this soldier.

* * *

And then he found out.

When he managed to check out the situation this time, he realized he was in Heaven. He hadn’t been back since before the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t, and he’d never wanted to go back.

He looked right into Gabriel’s eyes and wondered if he could read how much he despised them for what they had done to him and Crowley in his own.

“Well, Aziraphale?”

“Everything is going well.”

Aziraphale didn’t even want to know what Crowley felt whenever he heard this flat tone. He knew he loved his giggle.

“And your… special assignment?”

“That, too, sir.”

_Sir_. He was going to – to –

He was going to do something very _bad_ to all of them when this was over.

And then Crowley’s name fell from his own lips. But it, like everything else, came out all wrong. Aziraphale had breathed his name many times over the millennia, but he had never sounded indifferent. “The demon Crowley trusts me now.”

His blood ran cold. What were they trying to do?

“Excellent. Keep up the good work. He needs to feel himself completely safe with you if we want to succeed.”

What? Succeed?

Succeed in doping _what_?

Aziraphale grew too agitated and lost his connection just as he needed it the most. What were they planning? Why hadn’t they grabbed Crowley, too? He was glad for it, but still…

* * *

It took him a long time to finally be able to reach – well, himself again; and what he heard---

“Crowley, dear? I – I just remembered and I – they – can you come home, please?”

_What?_

But he hadn’t remembered – well, he had, but not this part of him, he needed to be entirely whole for that again –

But then what –

Aziraphale made a huge effort and managed to look through his eyes again.

He’d sounded like himself too.

Something was up.

But what good would it do to make Crowley believe that he was finally healed when –

He caught a glimpse of his hand.

He was carrying a thermos.

And suddenly he understood.

His newest task had been to draw Crowley in, to make him, as Gabriel had said, him feel safe.

And then, just as he did so, they had made him call his demon so that he would come and he could –

He could –

Use holy water on him.

The last thing Crowley would see on his earth was indeed Aziraphale destroying him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm evil.


	7. Chapter 7

He took a few deep breaths even though he’d never needed too and now inside his mind, they were more useless than ever, but he needed to calm down; he needed to keep the connection.

He needed to warn Crowley.

Because he knew Heaven.

If they’d just wanted to drop holy water on him, they could have anytime; no, this must be something crueller, something more sophisticated, as Gabriel would have put it while he was giving out his orders.

They had not averted the Apocalypse for this.

And so, he stayed in their cabin at the London Eye, determined to see this through and save his demon.

* * *

Crowley once again drove to the bookshop in a manner that would have Aziraphale grasping at his seat, telling him to go slower. He didn’t mind. He needed to get there, to see with his own eyes that his angel had returned to him, as a part of him had always insisted he would.

He all but jumped out of the car as soon had he stopped, told it firmly that it was to open the door to none but Crowley himself since he didn’t want to take the time to lock it, and hurried inside. “Angel!?”

What if this had just been temporary, what if it had been nothing but a fluke –

But Aziraphale was standing in the middle of his now almost-empty office, wringing his hands. “Crowley dear! They made me get rid off my books, and your plants, and look how they made me lose weight – I must be horribly disfigured in your eyes –“

“No no” he said, quickly taking him into his arms, “It’s alright angel. We can fix all of this.”

His heart was soaring. Now that he had Aziraphale back at his side, everything would be alright. Everything would be like it had been before – with the exception that he would make it his mission that none of these bastards ever touched either of them again.

“But look at this” Aziraphale wailed in his usual overdramatic way as he stepped back, “This – they must have made me shed at least twenty years and thirty pounds!”

“Nothing a few good lunches at the Ritz won’t fix, if we don’t use a miracle for it” Crowley soothed him, “And I’d say we’ve earned one, now.”

Aziraphale leaned against him. “You’re right, dear, of course. I just – I just came back to myself and let’s just say it was a bit of a shock.”

“Maybe they didn’t realize there was a time limit to whatever they did to you” Crowley said, starting to rub his back. “I have to say, this was creative even for them.”

He made his own experience sound light because in comparison, it was. He didn’t even want to know where Aziraphale had gone while all this had taken place – although he would of course listen if he wanted to talk. “Anathema’s going to be glad.”

“Anathema? What does she have to do with this?”

Something struck Crowley as strange about his reaction, but he couldn’t quite tell what. Maybe he was still in a bit of shock, too. “You know what? I could use a cup of tea” he said, moving towards the kitchen that hopefully would still work (and if it didn’t he’d _make_ it) “How about –“

“Oh no my dear, let me” Aziraphale said eagerly and moved past him.

He probably just wanted to do something normal after the nightmare that had been the last few weeks, and who could blame him.

Crowley realized his legs were shaking underneath him and sat down on the chair. He probably was experiencing this delayed shock thing the humans sometimes went on about – not that he’d paid them much attention, unless he’d quickly helped them out by way of miracle.

Only so he could properly tempt them, of course, not because he was being nice.

He looked at the desktop of the new shiny computer that seemed utterly _wrong_ in Aziraphale’s hands. He would be glad that he had, later.

* * *

It was almost too much to bear. How they made Crowley think that he’d returned to him, only to try and…

Aziraphale closed his eyes even though he wanted nothing more than to check how his beloved serpent was doing; but he needed to do something, needed to let him know…

He heard Crowley’s voice clear as a bell. “Anathema’s going to be glad.”

Anathema? So he had finally learned their friend’s name…

And then he realized.

And so, he concentrated on his tongue, forming words, forcing them out…

* * *

It didn’t take long for Aziraphale to bustle back into the room with two cups of tea in his hands. “I used lots of sugar. I think we could both need it.”

Crowley wouldn’t help but agree with him there. “Thanks, angel.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Crowley reached out for the cup.

* * *

Oh no. He’d pout the holy water into the tea.

Aziraphale would never forgive his brethren. This was even more vile than he could have imagined. It already hurt demons to be emerged in it, but if Crowley swallowed it –

And so, in his desperation, he did the only thing that he could think of.

* * *

Crowley knew Aziraphale liked his snacks, and his tea, but that had never stopped him from sharing.

So when, instead of letting go, Aziraphale left him to uselessly tug at the cup while he stood there, his fingers seemingly clenching around it, he knew something was wrong.

Something, considering the strange expression on Aziraphale’s face, was very, _very_ wrong.

And then he remembered.

He hadn’t commented on Crowley finally bothering to remember Anathema’s name. That in itself was unusual.

And then the desktop –

He’d had the documents folder open, and he’d saved a file just a few minutes before Crowley showed up.

Which meant –

All of this it took him only a matter of seconds to comprehend; and knowing that, if he revealed himself, he probably would never have a chance to come this close to Aziraphale ever again, he did what he probably should have done from the beginning.

“Angel” he chuckled, “Kinda need that if I’m to drink the tea.”

The panic he saw flare up in Aziraphale’s eyes – proving that on some level he knew what was going on and was desperately trying to prevent it – made things easier.

He wrenched the cup out of his hands, tossed its contents into his face to distract him, miracled the tire iron from the Bentley to him, and knocked him out.

* * *

Aziraphale rubbed his head.

That had hurt.

But at least Crowley had realized, Crowley had known, Crowley was safe for now –

“I’m almost impressed. That took a lot of strength.”

He opened his eyes and ignored the throbbing to glare at not-Crowley. “Nothing I wouldn’t do for him.” Sadly, the apparition was right; he felt drained. But Crowley was _alive_.

“Apparently” he agreed, sitting down next to him. “Nice view. Should come here more often.”

“I will. With him.”

“Please. What do you think he’s going to do?”

He didn’t know but it didn’t matter. After all, Crowley had already stopped time for him more than once. He’d come up with _something_.

* * *

Crowley carefully put the two cups away – holy water, the thought alone made him shudder, and God knew what Aziraphale must have gone through to warn him – and then used another frivolous miracle to put their bed back upstairs. He needed it – he couldn’t let Aziraphale lie on the floor.

The one good thing was that Heaven was probably giving him time to finish his assignment of doing away with Crowley, so that he didn’t have to recon with a visit from Above for the time being.

Crowley carefully placed Aziraphale – his now thin, fit body as always gave him a painful stab as he contemplated it – on the bed and thought.

Well. Demons and angels… they weren’t exactly corporeal, were they, even if they had bodies.

And he’d travelled through the phone.

Which meant that it technically should be able for him to get into Aziraphale’s mind and try and fix whatever they had done to it, to him.

It would be dangerous, of course. Angels were not known for their subtlety, and they had probably put all sports of guards in there just to make sure nothing went wrong.

Too bad.

He was doing it anyway.

* * *

Wasn’t it ironic that one of the few times he wished he could just lie down and sleep was when he very much could not because he didn’t even have control over his body.

Aziraphale stood up from his seat and swayed lightly from side to side.

“What – angel!” Not Crowley grabbed him and held him up. “You shouldn’t have done that. It will take days before you can even check out what’s going on outside again.”

“Had to” he managed to say. “Crowley was in danger.”

Even with the sunglasses, he could tell he was rolling his eyes. “He is always going to be in danger Why you two just puttered around London for a year when you could have been God knows where already is a –“

“We like London” he interrupted him, “And the flat we miracled together. That’s not to say we’re not going to get that cottage we talked about –“

“Angel” he said flatly as he dropped him back into the seat, “Haven’t you learned a thing from today? You might have kept – well, yourself from getting him today. But one day you won’t be able to, or maybe he’ll grow tired and leave eventually and then _they’ll_ get him. This is it. End of the line.”

“No” Aziraphale said, quietly but firmly, “It’s not.”

If he had managed to warn Crowley for the moment, then Crowley would find a way to fix this.

“If you say so…”

“Yes” he smiled through his exhaustion “You don’t know my dear serpent as well as I do.”

“I’m you, remember?”

“Not quite, though, are you?” he challenged him.

“You figured it out?”

“Very early on. A completely…. _Crowley_ Crowley in my mind would have encouraged me to get back to him.”

Not-Crowley threw his head back and laughed. “The confidence you have in him is astonishing.”

“I know you think that because part of you was put in here by Heaven, probably to make me doubt him. But I’ll _never_ do that. Six thousand years, and he’s always found his way back to me. He will this time, too.”

“If you say so…” he repeated.

“Oh trust me. He will. It’s only a matter of time, now.”

After all, that was how it worked. He had just saved Crowley, so now it was Crowley’s turn.

It was ineffable.

* * *

“Alright alright…” how to do this….” Crowley mumbled to himself while pacing about the room. He’d made sure that Aziraphale wouldn’t wake up for several hours.

He would have to… break himself down to molecules again, like that time with the phone. Only this time he’d have to enter Azriaphale’s mind.

He desperately hoped it wasn’t as shattered as it appeared to be.

He bit his lips.

Memories. Memories they both shared. That could be his way in.

And at the end of memory lane would be the place where they had put Aziraphale. Everything between him and the world outside, so he couldn’t find his way out.

Well.  
Crowley would be there to help him or die trying.

And so he gently laid a hand on the angel’s forehead and closed his eyes.

Where to go, that was the problem.

Six millennia of memories, locked away in Aziraphale’s head to make him into a perfect little soldier.

_Well… Let’s start with… where it started_, he told himself.

And went in.

* * *

In his worst moments, he had feared that heaven had managed to completely destroy Aziraphale’s memories.

But when he opened his eyes and found himself looking at the angel who’d just given his sword away and a demon who was about to fall once more, although in an entirely different way, he realized he’d been wrong. This – this was exactly how it had happened.

And so he watched himself speak his first words to his future love.

“Well, that went down like a lead balloon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a sucker for the headcanon that Crowley fell for Aziraphale the second he heard he had given the sword away.


	8. Chapter 8

Even knowing that Aziraphale and he shared a long history, Crowley was somewhat taken aback by the clarity of the angel’s memories. Not because he had feared that they would be gone – although he had – but because there were some he had had no idea of.

He shuddered when he realized where he’d landed in his attempt to find the angel. 1348. There was a reason he’d told Hastur once he would have _loved_ the fourteenth century.

They’d been dropping like flies from the Plague, and there’d been nothing he could do to make it better. So he’d performed small miracles, like tempting a rich man to be able to boast to his friends that he was a benefactor of mankind in order to make him give bread to a poor, sick family and passing them as successes to his bosses downstairs.

He didn’t think he and Aziraphale had met during the plague years, so he was about to turn away since he needed to find him in here somewhere, when he suddenly saw himself enter a house and the angel noticing from across the street.

Of course Aziraphale had been in the middle of it, too; he’d probably healed people even though Heaven wouldn’t have wanted that.

But why…

He saw Aziraphale follow him quietly, apparently intent on finding out what he was doing; and Crowley, temporarily forgetting why he was there, moved automatically to see what happened, mostly because he was confused why Aziraphale hadn’t let him know he’d come across him.

His stomach clenched when he recognized the house. He remembered that.

A family of five, all dead but for a little girl, who’d be the last one to go at sunset.

He knew that because he’d stayed until then, unable to let her face death alone.

He watched Azriphale watch himself through the window. He didn’t need to listen to remember.

“Mummy” she whispered desperately.

“You’ll be seeing her soon, sweetheart” Crowley said while wiping the sweat of her forehead and glancing at the bed where her mother had breathed her last just a short time ago, “I promise.”

What took Crowley aback was the look on Aziraphale’s face.

They had wasted even more time by not being honest with one another than he had thought.

That reminded him.

Time to move on.

* * *

Crowley quickly made his way through more and more memories; then, suddenly realizing that he was going nowhere, he reluctantly stopped and thought.

There had to be something he could do, something that would bring him closer.

And then he remembered a children’s movie he had watched in cinema when it first came out, of all things.

_Core memories_. There had to be memories that were more important to Aziraphale than others. If they were embedded deeper into his mind, then they must lead to him eventually.

* * *

The first memory he realized was important – from the sheer feel of it, the affection Aziraphale had for it was palpable – was of a small creperie in Paris in 1793.

“And” his past self was currently asking the angel, “Was that worth almost being discorporated for?”

“Oh my dear, they are simply marvellous! You must try one of them –“

“I don’t see why I should take one away from you, since you’re enjoying them so much.”

Present Crowley, meanwhile, was marvelling at the fact that he’d forgotten this was the first time Aziraphale had called him dear.

He smiled at the angel happily devouring his crepes, then realized he was just presenting a mirror image of the demon sitting across from him and hurried on.

Yes. This must be the right path.

* * *

And so he went on for he would never be able to say how long, determined to find his angel or die trying.

The memories that came up where almost exclusively of him and Aziraphale – with a few exceptions of miracles he’d performed and apparently been especially proud of, and small wonder, given how he had apparently convinced young Mozart to study extra hard.

Still, though.

Mostly, Aziraphale’s most treasure memories were of him and Crowley.

Crowley made a mental note to tell him that, could he see inside his head, it would look something like this, too.

Although perhaps not quite in that order.

After their crepes – well, he supposed he could call it a date now – there came the Crucifixion of all things. He didn’t quite understand until he realized that had been the first time when he’d openly admitted doing a good thing to Aziraphale. After all, he hadn’t really tempted Jesus like downstairs had wanted. He had just shown him the world, let him have a bit of fun. He’d deserved it, knowing what would come afterwards.

* * *

Another memory.

The two of them in the Globe theatre, watching Hamlet. The angel was munching away on some grapes, of course, looking pleased at the audience that had congregated.

Personally Crowley still didn’t like the gloomy ones, but it had been worth it just to see Aziraphale smile like that.

“You have to admit he’s wonderful” Aziraphale sighed, his eyes fixed on Burbage.

“Oh yes, wonderful” Crowley echoed, although he was definitely not looking at the actor, his attention focused elsewhere.

Seriously, how had they gotten this so wrong for six thousand years?

* * *

The next memory that felt as if it was of immense significance surprised Crowley somewhat, mostly because it had taken place only a few weeks ago and didn’t seem in any way particularly interesting to him.

They were lounging on the sofa, Aziraphale lost in a book as usual, with Crowley occasionally glancing towards the pages.

Well, _obviously_. Despite his attempts to make the angel believe that he didn’t do books, he liked to read now and then. Just now and then, mind.

“So what are you reading anyway, angel?”

He looked up and stared at him through his spectacles, clearly needing a moment to return from whatever literary heights the question had pulled him from. “Oh. It’s Stefan Zweig. An –“

“Austrian writer. I’m not that naive, angel. Early to middle of the twentieth century.”

Aziraphale beamed. “Yes! What he has to say about Marie-Antoinette may be incredibly inaccurate, but his language –“

“Would you read to me?” Crowley asked lazily, stretching out so he lay with his head in Aziraphale’s lap. “Too tired to read it myself.”

A pause. When this had happened, Crowley had already closed his eyes to focus on his angel’s voice, so that he hadn’t seen his expression; but now, his heart beat faster when he saw the obvious love in Aziraphale’s face as he began to read and simultaneously run his fingers through his hair.

Crolwey had dozed off one or two chapters in, but he hadn’t minded.

He swallowed and hastened away. If he wanted to make more of those memories, he had to find him.

* * *

Not-Crowley was strangely insistent today. Normally, he left Azriaphale alone after a while, but he’d all but carried him back to the book shop and was now actually busy making tea. He hadn’t bothered to do that since Aziraphale had figured out that this wasn’t real. “What are you doing?”

“You like tea.”

“Yes but it’s not real.”

He sighed. “How often do I have to tell you this is as real as you want it to be.”

“Not at all, then.”

“_Again_ – it’s only a matter of time until they get him out there. You could just stop worrying and enjoy this. You enjoyed the time before you realized, didn’t you?”

He couldn’t deny that he had – he still felt guilty that he had somewhat betrayed Crowley. But certainly the demon would understand once he explained it to him.

He groaned. “Seriously? You still believe that he’ll show up?”

As a matter of fact, Aziraphale was growing more and more convinced that he would. Because there had to be a reason that Not-Corley was still there. And if he was at least partially in his mind to keep him here and growing more desperate…

_I am waiting, dear. Don’t worry, I’m holding on. _

* * *

Ah. The thwarted Apocalypse. This was one of Crowley’s favourite memories too – mainly because Aziraphale had finally admitted that they were on their own side.

He only gave it a passing glance.

He was getting closer.

* * *

What the –

He hopped around. Why was this –

Oh. The church. Crowley, who’d been working for British counterintelligence back then (and made sure not too many Londoners became victims of the bombs while selling his job to headquarters as planning a few war crimes) hadn’t even stopped to think when he’d learned about the Nazi spies who were tricking Aziraphale.

What he had not been aware of was the look on Aziraphale’s face as he was already walking towards the car.

Crowley recognized that feeling. It had _really_ hit him in a blazing bookstore, but of course it had been building up for much longer, most likely since Eden…

Yes. Now he was getting close. There was no other explanation.

_I’m coming, angel._

* * *

“What was that?” Aziraphale asked. He’d busied himself with reading, ignoring not-Crowley; but that last sentence had sounded different than his usual chatter, somehow…

“I wasn’t saying anything since you aren’t listening anyway” he sulked.

Aziraphale glanced at him. He looked… worried?

And that voice…

He’d heard it clear as a bell. _I’m coming, angel._

Why would not-Crowley say something like that?

He wouldn’t.

But that meant…

His love must be near.

His heart beating wildly with hope, he got up and put the book away. Time to start to think about a way to deal with not-Crowley.

* * *

Yes. This _had_ to be it. This had to be the last memory.

Crowley knew because – well, it was his favourite, too.

The night after the world had failed to end. The night where Aziraphale finally went home with him and actually took his hand on the bus ride, palm pressed against palm…

He’d then and there sworn to himself that he was never letting go again.

And he wasn’t about to.

Currently, he was staring at them trying very hard to tell each other what they needed to hear on his sofa. Oh Go- oh Satan, had he really stammered that much?

He sighed with relief as Aziraphale gently took off his glasses and said “I understand, dear.”

Of course the angel had been the first of them to lean in for a kiss. Say what you want, but once Aziraphale had made up his mind (even if it took him millennia sometimes) he always acted quickly on it.

And then, for the first time, he saw a door. Until now, the memories had simply followed one after the other without any transition being needed.

He saw it as a good sign and went to open it.

* * *

The important part was that he had to be very careful how to get rid of not-Crowley. There had to be some of his memories of the demon in there, if only to prove the delusion; so he couldn’t just eliminate him. That might have caused problems, not to mention possibly made him forget a few things about Crowley, and he couldn’t allow that.

How to extract all of that, though, that was the problem…

Well, it was his mind. And he remembered what the angels had done to him. Sort of. He shuddered at the thought of doing that to another person – to Crowley – but then, this wasn’t a person, was it? It was a representation of an abstract concept in his mind.

“Angel, it’s cold; why don’t you get away from that window?”

There was something in his voice, something strange and disheartening…

Almost as if he was growing even more nervous. But this was just a street in his mind, so –

And then Aziraphale saw _him_.

On the street.

Running towards the bookshop.

“Crowley!” he burst out, trying to go and meet him, but being held back by not-Crowley.

“Did you really think” he said quietly, “That it was going to be so easy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm weak for Crowley and kids.


	9. Chapter 9

How could he ever have supposed this thing to be his beloved serpent, Aziraphale wondered as he uselessly struggled against his grip. The spite in his face was almost too much to behold.

“Now you’ll stay right here” he was saying “Just need something to tie you up with, and then I’ll deal –“

“ANGEL!” Crowley burst through the door, clearly surprised when he saw himself. “What –“

“Crowley, be careful!” Aziraphale called out.

“When have I ever been that?” he asked, moving to intervene.

Not-Crowley was strong, but there were two of them, and so they managed to wrestle Aziraphale pout of his arms.

“I am _so_ glad to see you” the angel wheezed.

“And you’ve no idea what a sight for sore eyes you are” Crowley said, just staring at him for a few moments.

“You two are breaking my heart, but I am afraid I can’t allow the angel to leave.”

Crowley turned to his doppelganger and hissed. “Too bad, because he is coming with me.”

“Is he now?”

“Yes” he said, moving so he stood between Aziraphale and… himself.

“Well, you’ll have to deal with the fact that I’m always lurking about then” he said.

And was gone.

“What the –“

Aziraphale quickly explained his theory to him.

“Oh God. We have to find me – him – me then,”

“He’s _not_ you” Aziraphale said firmly and reached out to him to greet him properly.

Crowley, apparently, was much too glad to have him back in his arms to resist. “So what do we do now, angel?” he asked eventually, pulling back.

“We have to find him, and we have to make sure nothing the other angels placed into my mind remains here” Aziraphale said anxiously. “What if I try and hurt you again?”

“You didn’t” Crowley said, reaching out and stroking his cheek with his thumb. “You warned me in time.”

“It was difficult” Aziraphale sighed, leaning into his touch. How he had missed him. “I was panicked that you would drink the holy water and…”

Crowley flinched. “Say what you want about Heaven, but they are much more creative when it comes to torturing someone than Hell.”

Aziraphale nodded miserably.

“Hey” Crowley pressed another quick kiss on his lips. “We’ll figure it out. Now, where is this handsome devil…”

“It’s my mind. There are infinite possibilities.”

“Not in your memories, though. They remain as clear and unchanged as they have ever been. I’ve been through a few when I was trying to find you.”

“What did you see?”

“Mostly us.”

“The important things, then.”

Crowley swallowed, and when he answered, he sounded thick with emotions. “Yes. The important stuff.”

Aziraphale squeezed his hand and smiled. “I wish you could tell me all about it this very second, dear, but we have to deal with him first.”

“Alright, then. He is partly based on your recollection of me, so we should probably be looking for places where I would hide from you…” A pause. “Not that I’d ever do that again.”

_Again_ because, when Crowley took his century-long nap, Azirpahale was eventually worried enough to come looking for him. He didn’t wake him but made sure he was safe and comfortable, he’d admitted to him a few months back.

“I know, dear.”

Crowley grinned, “Let’s go then. We survived an Apocalypyse, hellfire and holy water; how difficult can it be?”

* * *

“Do you have any idea how big this place is?” Crowley asked not long afterwards. They’d been strolling through the streets of London. “I mean is it like the real city, or…”

“I don’t know. So far I’ve only been by the London Eye” Azirapahle admitted.

“Ah, angel, you’re always so sentimental.”

“I needed a high vantage point to figure out what was going on.”

“How did you realize that this wasn’t real anyway?” Crowley asked, genuinely curious. He was rather impressed – Aziraphale’s mind had produced the London they knew and loved almost perfectly.

“Well, I – he wasn’t quite right.”

Crowley frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I – well – there was a certain – you weren’t all there, and I could feel that. Oh, he was perfectly accommodating, but –“

“You like me being a bit snake-y” he said, grinning.

“Exactly. And then I looked into his eyes and knew.” 

Crowley took his hand. “Well done, angel.”

“Not good enough” he sighed. “I couldn’t find a way out.”

“Well, that’s what you have me for” Crowley pressed a kiss against his hand. “I was always going to come for you, you know that, right?”

“Yes. I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through –“

“Doesn’t matter” he said curtly, not wishing to remember that empty look in his love’s eyes. “We deal with this, and then we’ll see.”

And so they moved on.

* * *

“I think we should go to the London Eye” Crowley said then.

“Why?”

“Because it’s high up. He probably hopes he can throw one or the other of us from it. He must know that there has to be confrontation sometime, so why not there?”

Aziraphale thought about for a moment, the nodded. “We’ll have to be careful, dear.”

“Because we always are” Crowley replied sarcastically, but didn’t let go of his hand.

He wasn’t ready to yet. He doubted he would be in the next century or so.

* * *

“When this is over we should have dinner here again” Aziraphale said to his demon, “It was rather beautiful, wasn’t it?”

“You know I’m always ready to have dinner with you, angel” Crowley agreed, “but this time, you take over the catering. It took some time to convince that cook to bring the food here…”

Azirpahale nodded happily, his heart singing at Crowley asking _him_ to do things again after way too long spent with a fake version of him.

“Ah. There he is” Crowley pointed. “In the highest booth, of course.”

“We need to get up there.”

“Well then, it’s your turn, angel. Your mind. Just imagine us up there, that should do the trick.”

“Alright” he said, feeling somewhat sheepish that he hadn’t thought of it before, and closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, they were looking at not-Crowley.

“Wouldn’t have thought you’d find me so fast.”

“You were speculating we would, and you know it” Crowley said matter-of-factly.

“You should know.”

“I know just enough about you that I know I need to get you out of my angel’s noggin.”

“He’s not _your_ angel.”

“Yes” Aziraphale said quietly, “he is.”

“Well, if you want to service a demon…”

“Oh trust me, it goes both ways” Crowley smirked. “Plenty of servicing everywhere.”

Not-Crowley hissed and it was clear that this was something the angels had implanted in his mind – the disdain at the relationship between him and Crowley. And Aziraphale wouldn’t allow it to stay. That could never be.

And then he remembered the Not-Apocalypse and acted.

“Ahm, angel?” Crowley asked in the next moment. “Overdramatic much?”

He wasn’t one to say, if you asked Aziraphale, but he still looked at him and laughed. “I thought, since this is where we had por greatest triumph…”

“Well, triumph” Crowley said, studying the mind-version of the sands of time, “You threatened never to talk to me again and I freaked out.”

“It’s the same thing, dear.”

“What exactly do you plan on doing now?” fake Crowley snarled. “I am not going anywhere. And if you think that abomination can help you –”

And Aziraphle looked at him and saw nothing of the demon he loved anymore. Suddenly, separating and eliminating the parts that didn’t come from his mind seemed like the easiest thing in the world, except for one objection. “Crowley, my dearest” he said softly. “What I am about to do is most likely going to be very unpleasant, and if you don’t feel…”

“Don’t worry about me. Just tell me what to do.”

“I just don’t want you to look at me any differently than before.”

“That will never happen” he promised. “This was done to you, and now we have to fix it. Together. Like we always do.”

“Oh my God, you two are so sappy it’s not even –“

And that was where not-Crowley was wrong. Because, yes, they could be sappy, and ridiculously in love, and Aziraphale loved both of those facts; but when they had to act –

A moment later, they both attacked him, using their wings (which fake Crowley apparently didn’t have – typically angels; probably thought that demons shouldn’t have any in the first place) as leverage.

It wasn’t easy. The non-serpent writhed and screamed in pretend-agony that nonetheless pierced Aziraphale’s heart: he had to take glances at Crowley all the time to ensure his love was actually safe and well – or at least as safe and well as he could be under the circumstances.

“Alright” Crowley said, holding him down, “What do we do?”

“I’ve done my research, and I think I knew what they did. We have to… split him up so to speak. What’s mine and what’s theirs.”

“Ah” Crowley said, “That won’t be a problem.”

“I don’t see –“

“Angel, I can _feel_ what’s yours and what’s theirs. I’ve known you for a long time.” Crowley looked at him and somehow, even with his glasses on, Aziraphale could tell that his eyes had softened. “We can do this.”

“Thank God” he breathed, “I was so worried that we wouldn’t –“

“Hey, I wouldn’t have given up until we found a resolution, you don’t have to worry about that.”

Of course he worried, because Crowley not giving up would have put him in harm’s way, as the demon was very aware, but there was no benefit in pointing it out.

“Alright” Aziraphale said and imagined the instruments he’d seen in Sandalphon’s hands.

Crowley studied them with obvious displeasure. “Those feathered –“

“We should concentrate, dear” he interrupted him. “This won’t be as easy as you think –“

“For you, maybe not. But I am very aware that this isn’t me.”

A pause.

“You should wait outside” Crowley then said quietly.

“No. I won’t let you go through this alone.”

“Alright, but let me know if you start to feel overwhelmed. This is after all your mind, angel.”

“I promise”.

Crowley gave him a quick kiss. “To work, then.”

* * *

It was neither as easy as Crowley had believed nor as difficult as Aziraphale had feared.

Mostly his job was to keep not-Crowley down while the demon worked on him.

The worst parts where when he tried to plead with Aziraphale and despite the fact that his lover was working diligently, muttering to himself as he went through his ribcage – at least there were no blood or guts, it rather looked like this playdoh thing human children adored to form things with – now and then, Aziraphale flinched.

He never wanted to hear that tone from Crowley – so much like his _please_ that had first alerted him that something was going on – ever again.

“Got it!” he called out triumphantly and used the instrument to pull a –

Small snake out of not-Crowley who promptly disintegrated back into Aziraphale’s mind.

“These – these” Crowley snarled.

“Fuckers” Aziraphale provided.

Crowley stared at him, then laughed. “I really needed that, angel.”

He snapped his fingers and incinerated the snake. “There.”

“You had to come get me” Aziraphale admitted, “Because I couldn’t have done that. Not to someone who looked like you.”

“Well, I did come and get you, so how about we get out of here?”

“Yes. I want to go home.”

It felt like he hadn’t been there in ages, although Crowley had told him it had only been a few weeks. He couldn’t wait and repair his bookshop and their flat.

Crowley kissed him. “See you there, angel.”

Aziraphale opened his eyes – his real eyes in the physical world – a few moments later, Crowley standing over him, still looking a bit worried. “Aziraphale – do you know who I am –“

“Yes” he breathed, pulling him down on the bed, “I know _exactly_ who are you, dear.”

“Oh thank God – thank Sa- thank somebody” Crowley sighed against his neck. “You’ve no idea how much I missed you.”

“I would imagine” Aziraphale said quietly, “About as much as I missed you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't keep my darlings away from each other for too long. Last chapter tomorrow!


	10. Chapter 10

Crowley pulled back. Aziraphale resisted the urge to remove his sunglasses just to check, just to make sure…

He spared him the trouble by taking them off himself, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Yes. This was his beloved serpent, and no one else.

“Alright then” Crowley said with one of those rare, utterly delighted smiles Aziraphale had come to treasure over the last year, “Time to fix this. I think we could start with our bedroom and –“

“Crowley wait” he said when he realized the demon had already raised his hand to make it all happen with a snap.

“What?”

“We need to think. The angels will eventually come check up on me if I don’t go back to Heaven – and I have no intention of doing so.”

“But…” Crowley trailed off, then looked away. “I hate seeing you like this” he finally confided in him, “Because I know you don’t like it, either.”

“I know, dear, I know. But first we have to deal with this, then we can change It all back, yes?”

“Alright” he conceded. “Any idea how to proceed?”

Aziraphale looked at him. “I think you might actually be able to answer that question…”

* * *

Half an hour later, Aziraphale and Crowley were talking to Anathema and Newt on the phone. That friendly witch was ecstatic to hear that everything was fine again. “Crowley almost went mad without you. I’m so glad you’re back.”

“I’m glad to be back” he said, taking Crowley’s hand; at Anathema’s words, he’d mumbled something and put his sunglasses back on. “And I don’t plan on leaving ever again.”

* * *

Half an hour after that, they had hatched a plan. Granted, just thinking of pretending that Crowley had drunk the holy water made Aziraphale feel slightly ill, but it was the best thing they could come up with. Plus, Crowley now knew exactly what it was supposed to look like after having used his emergency ration on Ligur.

“There” he said, having used a miracle to recreate it, “That’s what I would have looked like as a puddle of goo”.

“Please don’t make a joke out of it” Aziraphale pleaded.

“Angel, you know that’s not me. I’m here.”

And if not for Aziraphale momentarily breaking through the mind control, he might not have been.

“Hey”. Crowley kissed his hand. “I am here, and like you said – neither of us is going anywhere. Now I just have to hide…”

* * *

Aziraphale and Crowley waited.

They didn’t have to wait for long. Angels, while not curious by nature (just ask Crowley – they were not supposed to be curious) would hardly wait to come and see if the enemy had been destroyed.

And so, Aziraphale was pretending that he was writing a report on the computer when the door opened and Gabriel strolled in “Aziraphale!”

“Sir” he replied, the word tasting like ash on his tongue. Never again after this moment. Never again.

“Well well well, and how did it –“

Gabriel saw the fake-demon on the floor and his face broke into a smile that was terrible to behold. Aziraphale was taken aback by his own reaction. He wanted to make that smile go away with his own two hands, he wanted to pummel right into it, he wanted to watch Gabriel _bleed_ –

“I have to say, you did an excellent job, Aziraphale. Any problems?”

“No, sir. I did as you told me – pretended to like the serpent in order to lure him in.” He did his best to mimic the flat, even tome he’d used when he’d still been under Heaven’s control.

“Like I said, excellent. Now” Gabriel confided in him, “We should repair to Heaven. There is a procedure that needs to be done –“

And only then did Aziraphale understand the cruelty of Heaven’s revenge on him.

Not only had they planned on making him kill Crowley – no, they would then have proceeded to return him to his old self and see what he had done.

It was so monstrous he could hardly comprehend it.

“A procedure, sir?”

“Yes. Just a small one. Just making sure everything’s fine, you see –“

“Oh everything _is_ fine, we made sure of that. And just so you, there will be no procedure on my angel. _Never again_.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened and he turned around, but before he could react, Crowley had pinned him against the next wall and was snarling into his face. “You thought you could lock him inside his own head and get rid off me. Well, you were wrong, and I am going to prove it by tearing you apart limb from limb, see how you like it when you get sent back discorporated –“

“Crowley dear”.

“What?” he turned to look at Aziraphale. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t like to see me do it, angel.”

“I can’t” he answered simply, “but this is not the way.” He quickly snapped his fingers, freezing Gabriel into place so he couldn’t do anything while at the same time being able to see and hear. “Now it’s high time you understand something” Aziraphale told him. “I am going to unfreeze you, and you are going to leave, and Heaven will never try and moved against either one of us. Remember that we managed to deal with your mind control – we’ll handle ever tying else thrown our way too, and next time I won’t stop Crowley from doing what he wants. Is that clear?”

He saw comprehension in his eyes and snapped his fingers again.

Gabriel opened his mouth.

“If I were you” Crowley hissed, “I would do exactly what he told me to.”

Gabriel stared at him.

He was gone the next moment.

“So” Aziraphale sighed, “That should be dealt with,”

“Let’s hope so. I’d hate to ruin this suit” Crowley answered. “That reminds me. Now, about fixing everything…”

* * *

An hour later, they were sitting in the restored bookshop, Aziraphale looking like the day they had thwarted the Apocalypse and every other one from that moment on, and Crowley finally felt like he could breathe again. He slumped against him.

“Is everything alright, dear?”

He suppressed a laugh that might have turned into a sob. “Yes. Now it is.”

“Oh Crowley, I can’t imagine –“

“I wasn’t locked into my own mind by those I used to consider my brethren. I’m fine.”

“Still…” Aziraphale took his hand. “I at least knew you were coming for me. You had no idea of knowing whether I was truly gone or not.”

“You weren’t. That’s the important thing”. Crowley shuddered. “Never let me see you that thin again, though.”

When he raised his head, Aziraphale was smiling at him. “Let me tempt you to dinner then, so you can make sure that I’m eating?”

“Nothing to make sure about that” he muttered, but it was clear he didn’t mean it. He got up and offered him his hand. “Let’s go then, angel. I am rather sure a table just got free at the Ritz.”

Aziraphale laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound Crowley had ever heard.

**Six months later**

Aziraphale, as usual these days, woke up with Crowley pressed against him. He considered getting up and making them tea – having decided quite some time ago that the pleasure of the task more than made up for the fact that he had to move in order to accomplish it – but Crowley didn’t like waking up alone, not after what they had been through.

In fact, the first time after Aziraphale had been returned to himself and left the bed before the demon, he’d proceeded to all but throw himself out of bed to check up on him when he’d realized he was alone in the room.

And so Aziraphale simply miracle a cup and _Love In The Time Of Cholera_ into his hands and spent the rest of the morning getting lost in the familiar words of Marquez while occasionally running his fingers through Crowley’s hair.

Eventually, he heard, “Morning, ‘ngel.”

“It’s hardly morning anymore. Close to noon, I’d say.”

“Oh” Crowley stretched. “You could have woken me up.”

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself.”

Crowley shrugged. “No reason to stay next to me while I’m asleep either. I know you like puttering about your shop.”

“It’s alright, dear” he said gently. “You prefer it when I’m there when you wake up, don’t you?”

Crowley looked away. “Yes, but it’s high time I get over my hang-up.”

“I wouldn’t call it a hang-up.”

“You wouldn’t, would you.” Crowley kissed him. “Anyway, breakfast?”

“We can do lunch, too”.

“Brunch, then” Crowley decided and got out of bed.

In truth, Aziraphale was starting to worry a little. Crowley barely left his side, these days. And he knew that the demon loved taking joyrides in his Bentley and spending some time alone now and then – he just didn’t anymore because, deep down, he was still scared that Heaven would move against them once more.

It wasn’t that Aziraphale never contemplated the possibility – he’d just decided that there was no point in worrying since they didn’t know what would happen.

Crowley, of course, was different.

Still – nothing he could do about it at this very moment; and so he got out if bed and began going through all the small restaurants nearby he knew served delicious brunches.

* * *

“Anathema and Newt are coming up to London next week” he informed Crowley over brunch after having checked a text he’d just received.

“Good.”

That too – just another symptom of Crowley’s anxiety for his well-being ; Aziraphale knew for a fact that he always asked Anathema to check his aura, simply because Newt had innocently mentioned the fact.

“Crowley” he began after thinking about it for a man, carefully choosing his words, “You know we are safe, don’t you? We dealt with Gabriel –“

“And you are telling me they are not ruthless enough to try again?” he challenged him.

Aziraphale was quiet because they both know he couldn’t.

“That’s what I mean. And there’s no place for us to hide. No mater where we go, they’ll always be able to find us. You know that. So excuse me if I am being a little jumpy –“

“You’re more than a little –“

“Just because I don’t want to see you attack me again with a bloody _sword_ –“ And Crowley got up and stormed out.

“Don’t worry love” Rosalind, the middle age waitress told Aziraphale, who could only watch him run away, “Your young man will always come back to you.”

He knew that – but how was he supposed to deal with Crowley’s fear that might not be the case after all?

* * *

The Bentley wasn’t in its usual spot when he returned to the bookshop, so he concluded that Crowley had gone on a drive to calm down. He hoped it would work.

He tried to read, but his thoughts kept drifting to wherever Crowley happened to be.

Thankfully, he returned soon.

Aziraphale didn’t look up from his book immediately, wondering how to properly greet and reassure him.

“Sorry, angel” he said quietly.

Aziraphale quickly took his glasses off and got up. “No, no. I shouldn’t have pushed. I’m sorry.”

Crowley smiled a half-smile. “Truce?”

“More than that” Aziraphale promised, drawing him close.

Suddenly, the bookshop was filled with bright light; naturally, Crowley reacted b throwing himself in front of Aziraphale, who in his turn tried to get him to take cover.

“Principality Aziraphale” a voice he remembered well declared.

“It’s the Metatron” he told Crowley.

“What, God’s press secretary?”

The Metatron ignored them and continued, “There is a message the Almighty wants you to receive.”

“Yes?”

“She herself ahs declared that no further attempt against you or the demon Crowley shall be made by any angel in existence.”

Crowley actually slumped against him in relief.

“Thank you, that’s very –“

But the light was gone again.

“See, dear?” he asked, reaching up and running his fingers through Crowley’s hair, “Told you we’d be fine.”

“Yeah, yeah, you did, angel.” Crowley kissed him. “Seems like we’re safe after all.”

Aziraphale looked at him with sparkling eyes. “Does that mean we can talk about the cottage?”

Crowley drew him into his arms. “Any time you want, angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are then, my pretties - my first multi-chapter Good Omens fic. Hope you enjoyed it, and have a most wonderful day!


End file.
